


The power of love

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée), Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: M/M, Multi, OOCness for lols, editor husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zantafio meets his soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The power of love

 

It was a nice summer day.

 

Nice, but not spectacular. Not the kind of day you'd ever imagine to be so completely life-changing.

 

Zantafio certainly wasn't prepared for it.

 

He had just entered the _Spirou_ offices, dressed as his cousin Fantasio, easy enough feat with their similar build and the rubber mask he had kept from a past scheme.

 

As long as he didn't have to talk to anyone, no-one would be able to tell he wasn't Fantasio, and there would be no-one to stop him.

 

He had just finished stealing all of Fantasio's pens and scribbling rude messages on his important papers and revelling in this victory, when the door opened, and before he could react someone grasped his hand and pulled him up.

 

"Come on, Fantasio! You gotta see this?"

 

Zantafio lifted his gaze.

 

And felt like his heart stopped.

 

He was a young man, although his actual age was oddly difficult to pinpoint, with a worn old green jumper that was too small for him.

 

But it was his genuine heartwarming smile that so affected the villain.

 

It has been so long since anyone had looked at him with such genuine affection.

But that was not all...

 

However, before he had time to realize what the warm feeling flooding his very being was, he was reminded of his situation.

 

"Fantasio? Aren't you gonna come?"

 

It was not for him.

 

That smile had been meant for his cousin.

 

Zantafio turned away from the young man, suddenly uncertain.

 

And trying to ignore the desire to find out if his hair was as coarse as it looked, to bury his hands into it and-

 

He had to get away from there.

Before the other man had time to react, he fled, emotions in complete turmoil.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Zantafio tossed and turned in between his luxurious silk sheets.

 

Sleep eluded him.

 

He stared at his right hand that had touched that almost ethereal being.

 

He was acting like a fool.

But that knowledge did nothing to take his mind off that chance encounter.

 

He had to find out more about the young man.

 

* * *

 

 

Zantafio stared at the pile of documents.

 

It was all information he could have found out himself, but there were people who did this kind of stuff professionally, and he wanted to know as much of him as possible before attempting contact again.

 

He stopped, realizing that without even noticing it he had decided to approach the young man again.

 

No, not just 'young man', he had a name now.

 

"Gaston Lagaffe," Zantafio said out loud, letting the name roll of his tongue.

 

He seemed to work as an office boy in the same place as his cousin did.

Zantafio did his best to ignore the sting or jealousy.

 

But when he looked at the picture of Fantasio and Gaston talking, he couldn't help gritting his teeth.

 

He had to act.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Gaston had just stepped out of the fishmongers when everything went dark and the ground disappeared from under his feet.

 

"Mmhuh?"

 

It took a while before it occurred to him to struggle.

 

He wiggled a bit, which only confirmed he was indeed carried somewhere wrapped in burlap.

 

And everything went dark(er).

 

When he came to, he was no longer restrained by the rough fabric.

Instead he seemed to be laying on a soft carpet in someone's apartment.

 

"Mmhuh?"

 

A darkhaired man in a spiffy suit came to view.

"I trust you are unharmed? I gave explicit orders not to hurt you, if those two have as much as harmed a hair on you, I'll see to it they are punished immediately!"

 

Gaston sat up. "Huh? I think I just fell asleep."

 

The man offered him his hand. "You can call me Zantafio."

 

* * *

 

 

"Gaston? Are you here!?" Fantasio yelled in frustration.

 

Where was he?

 

However, it was a rather unexpected sight that made him stop.

"Prunelle, why are you hiding under Jef's desk?"

 

The darkhaired editor lifted a finger to his lips. "Shh."

 

Now curious, Fantasio joined him under the desk. "What? What are we hiding from?"

 

Prunelle glanced around. "It's near somewhere. It's happening, I can tell. But maybe, if we are very quiet and uninteresting, it will go away."

 

"What are you talking about?" Fantasio hazarded a guess: "Gaston?"

 

The other man shook his head. "No, something worse. Although he is usually involved."

 

He lowered his voice even more. "Fanfiction."

 

Fantasio was completely baffled."What?"

 

"It's been messing with me enough lately that I have sort of... I can tell, you know."

 

**A/N: So you decided to hide under a table? I'm sort of afraid to ask, but how on earth did you think it would help?**

 

It was the kind of voice that came from nowhere.

No, it didn't even come, it just popped into existence, all completely formed, not something you heard, something you felt in your brain.

 

It dug in, pulling at your hippocampus until it felt like your brain had been turned inside out in a bolded fourthwall-breaking strike.

 

"Oh, fuck."

 

**A/N: And here's the thing, if you had just been going on about your day, I would have never even noticed you. But now you practically forced yourself into the story and pulled Fanta in with you. So now I just gotta mess with you.**

 

Before either man could react, they, um?

 

**A/N: EH? I dunno. Started making out?**

 

Started making out.

 

But it turned out they were into it, so the narrator wandered off, uninterested.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile.

 

Zantafio did his best to give Gaston (it was okay if he called him by the first name, right? He felt like he knew him already better than anyone.) his most trustworthy smile as he reached to pull him up.

 

"I must apologize for the rough treatment. I couldn't be sure you would have taken my invitation."

 

"Phuh. Why not?"

 

Zantafio did his best to keep cool. He really would have come?

 

"I- I didn't think-"

He realized he was still holding Gaston's hand and let go, blushing.

 

"Phhh, so, did you wanna talk to me or show me something?"

 

Zantafio opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

 

He had planned what to do in advance, but now that Gaston was there right in front of him, all those plans just seemed to disappear.

 

"Unh?" he managed.

 

And Gaston wasn't behaving like anyone he had kidnapped before.

 

"Uh, you want a drink? Or something?"

 

"Drink?"

 

"W-water? Or tea? I have wine."

 

"Eh, tea is fine."

 

No, he wasn't just some hostage, Zantafio thought to himself when he went to brew the tea. He should have never thought of him as such.

 

He could not.

 

And then it hit him.

Gaston was not afraid of him, because he could tell he would never harm him.

 

He must have felt the same way!

 

He had just finished making the tea when there was a crash.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the same time on the office, Prunelle and Fantasio were having a lot of boring sex.

Jef was replaced with a blank of wood.

 

No, he had been replaced with a blank of wood two weeks ago, actually.

 

So far no-one had noticed.

 

* * *

 

 

"What's wrong!?"

 

"Phuh, it's not my fault!" Gaston gestured at the the mess on the floor. "I just wanted to take a closer look at some stuff on your bookshe-"

 

He stopped, suddenly, eyes widening. "Is that a _gun_?"

 

"Not a real one!" Zantafio hurried to tell him.

 

He took his arm and gently guided the young man away from anything suspicious.

 

He glanced around his apartment, suddenly self-conscious.

Usually, when he brought someone in _here,_ he had no reason to hide any of his illegal activities, quite the opposite.

 

"Phuh, I hate guns."

 

"Me too!" Zantafio said. "It's just a thing, a toy." He offered him the cup. "Your tea. Please sit down."

 

"So, I still don't know why I'm here."

 

Zantafio smiled. "I just wanted to meet you." He averted his eyes, hoping he wasn't staring. "To talk to you."

 

"Okay."

 

And so they talked.

 

Well, mostly it was Gaston talking, Zantafio staring at him, utterly captivated.

 

"-and they don't appreciate me at all!"

"I would appreciate you," Zantafio assured him. "I mean, um if I was your boss."

 

Was Fantasio really such a fool and not realize how lucky he was, able to spend almost every day with Gaston?

 

"Really?"

This time, that smile was meant for _him._

 

Gaston continued, ignoring how the other man had seemingly forgotten how to breath, "Yeah, just today, Prunelle was complaining about my cat and how he should not be allowed to move freely in the office!"

 

"Horrible."

 

"Yeah! Cats need their freedom."

 

That was like a punch to the gut for Zantafio.

 

"Freedom?"

 

"Yeah, you need to let them be free."

 

"Ah."

 

Of course.

 

"If you love something, set it free," Zantafio said, his voice suddenly quiet.

 

"Yeah."

 

Zantafio took his hand, and looked deeply into his beautiful brown eyes.

"You should go."

 

"Mmhuh?"

 

"It's for the best."

He had gone about this all wrong, treating Gaston like a hostage, like a prisoner.

He had done a horrible mistake, and now it was too late.

 

"Yeah, sure." Gaston stood up. "So, thanks for the tea and stuff. Bye."

 

And he was gone.

 

As the door closed behind Gaston, Zantafio realized it was for the best.

 

Even if it took all of his willpower not to run after him.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile at the editorial offices, Prunelle and Fantasio had invented three new sexual positions and proved you could do position 45 underwater.

 

The seagull was traumatized for life.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Zantafio opened the door, not believing his eyes.

 

"You- you came back."

 

"Yeah, hi," Gaston said.

 

It was the most wonderful 'yeah, hi' Zantafio had ever heard. He had let him go and he had come back, of his own free will.

 

He only intended to take his hand, but found himself pulling the young man into a hug.

"Mmhuh?"

 

Zantafio let him go.

He shouldn't go too fast.

 

"Gaston, you came back."

 

"Yeah, sorry but-"

 

Zantafio interrupted him. "There's no reason for you to apologize."

 

He was so happy.

Zantafio allowed his imagination to fly away, thinking forward to their life together.

 

Holding hands together, going on picnics, long walks on the beach...

 

But try as he might, other images accompanied those.

 

Fantasio finding out and trying to take Gaston away from him.

 

Him having to lie to Gaston about his job.

 

Gaston looking disappointed when he realized what kind of a person he was.

 

"I can change," Zantafio blurted out.

 

"Change? Why?"

 

He would accept him as he was!

 

But he could not drag this wonderful, shining human being to his dark and dirty world.

 

He had to let go.

 

"I forgot the fish," Gaston told him.

 

"What?"

 

"The fish. I had it when I came."

 

Zantafio nodded solemnly. It seemed Gaston understood as well, and did his best to hide his true feelings.

They truly had an unique connection.

No words had been exchanged, but both understood the tragedy of their situation.

 

As a symbolic gesture, he gave him the package.

 

"Eh, you know, you can keep it."

 

"Really?"

 

"Since you offered me tea. And I think it's starting to smell."

 

"I shall treasure it forever."

 

"Sure."

And with that, Gaston turned, and walked away from Zantafio's life.

 

 

* * *

 

Gaston opened the door to the mail room. "Hi."

 

He stopped to stare. "Why is my desk broken in half?"

 

Had this been anyone else than Gaston, he might have noticed the odd looks Prunelle and Fantasio shot at each other. Or that Fantasio was wearing Prunelle's jumper. Or that Prunelle had somehow misplaced both his glasses and his trousers.

 

However, since this was Gaston, this all flew right over his head.

 

"Ahm, it was a- an accident?" Fantasio tried.

 

"With an earthquake," Prunelle told him. "That's why some of the plaster from the walls is missing too."

 

"Okay. I'll need a new desk."

 

"I'll arrange for it," Fantasio promised.

 

Both editors sighed in relief when Gaston wandered off with a "How do you expect me to get any work done without a desk?"

 

"It was just the-" Prunelle's voice trailed off.

 

Fantasio nodded. "Yeah, definitely."

 

They glanced at each other.

 

"Tomorrow, your flat?"

 

"Yeah, you bring the whipped cream. I already have a stapler."

 


End file.
